


Cherry Wine

by acruxes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Anal Sex, Angst, Breakup, Canon Divergence, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of past abuse, Ronan Lynch & Blue Sargent Friendship, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Content, post-epilogue, tnx nic for writing the smut x
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acruxes/pseuds/acruxes
Summary: Adam is doing okay. He really, really is. His Ivy League life is going just as expected, full of new opportunities and beginnings. Plus, he's done feeling sorry for himself. The past is the past, and he can't do anything about it, even if he desperately wants - and has tried - to. As Adam accepts Blue's offer to spend Christmas at Fox Way, he promises himself it won't be like last time.More specifically, he won't let Ronan break his heart again.





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> hey fuckers!! first off i just REALLY wanted to portray what its like to have your first major heartbreak, with all common young adult feelings, like jealousy, anger and self loathing. theres still a lot of Maggie-Stief-Angst, just a lil bit more accurately shown and ding ding!!! with dialogue!
> 
> second of all, thank you to nicholas (@/aha-draco on tumblr) for helping me with the smut! i wanted it authentically written by a queer man and he was kind enough to guide me through it.
> 
> last but not least, thank you for ur kindness on my last fic! if u wanna talk to me directly u can always search my twitter @/westsivan (a troye sivan stan, shocker !) i love u all xx

It had been nearly six months.

It wasn't that Adam counted. No, he refused to do so. It wasn’t like every day he woke up reminded that the six-month anniversary was right around the corner. Five months and 27 days to be exact. Well, at least he didn’t count the hours. He couldn't do that to himself, even if he desperately itched to. He promised Blue he'd move on. He promised Gansey he'd be all right. He was fine. Everything was going as planned.

Driving back to Henrietta after all that time was surprisingly calmer than Adam had expected it to be. He wasn’t hyperventilating by the time he got to the infamous painted return sign, and the reason why his stomach was doing little flips wasn’t for the same motive it had been two years ago, when Robert Parrish was all he saw in that small town. This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought, I can't let this eat me alive. Not today. Not ever again.

Blue had kindly offered that he spends Christmas at Fox Way. Adam didn't have a place to go anyway, so he accepted, feeling like owed it to himself to see his friends. A month ago Adam would’ve probably refused, given Blue a stupid, off-hand excuse as he regretfully spent Christmas alone. 

But a month ago Adam would’ve also given everything to stop feeling like the world was against him.

The Hondoyota felt heavy in his hands. Adam didn’t use it as often as he hoped he would and being inside it felt more foreign than he remembered; the steering wheel hurt his fingers from gripping too tightly, the car was too cold, and his right leg wouldn't stop bouncing. He hated it. He hated that his body was involuntary furious, frustrated and anxious, wanting nothing more than to take the return sign back to New York.

Adam’s sulking was heavily interrupted by his phone, "Hey." he said, expecting a lecture as pressed the phone between his cheek and shoulder.

"Where are you?" Blue Sargent’s warm, familiar voice asked, concerned, "The food is ready."

Adam groaned, "I'm sorry." he said, looking around, but there was still no sign of Henrietta, "I'm trying my best."

Blue was silent for a second, "He's not here yet, either."

A shiver went through Adam's body. He wanted to throw that phone out the window so badly it hurt, "Didn’t need to know that." He gritted out.

"Oh, suck it up." she spat in her own way, " I hate it, too, you dickhead."

"Hm." he read a sign saying _Henrietta, 7 miles_ , "I'll be there soon."

He hung up. New York had never felt farther away.

 

***

 

When Adam got to Fox Way, laughter and happiness filled the house already. It was comforting to have a place like this in times of need, even if Adam hated its location immensely. He parked his car, and not bothering to take his things, thinking that if he got into an argument it would be less embarrassing to gather his things before storming out.

It was just like he remembered it.

He knocked once and not a second later it swung open to reveal Blue Sargent, dressed in a black dress, thigh high socks and Birkenstocks. His heart twisted a bit; he missed her too much, a smile winning the fight to appear on his face as she jumped in his arms. Adam lifted her off the ground, "You idiot." she said as he let her down, "I thought you had died out there."

He shook his head. Blue reached out to ruffle his hair, "I'm giving you a haircut. Geez, do people in New York not know what a pair of scissors look like?"

"I think it looks modern." Blue rolled her eyes affectionately before turning away to walk inside, Adam following shortly as soon as he closed the door behind him.

"Ugh." she grunted. Adam could hear people chatting from the dining room, "What is it? Growing-your-hair-out season?"

"Why do you say that?"

She shot him an amused look, "Just wait until you see—" then stopped, mid-sentence, a little frozen.

Adam lifted his eyebrows, "See what?"

She gazed at the kitchen momentarily, trying to avoid his eyes, "Never mind—"

"Blue."

She sighed, and looked at him again, "This is hard, okay?" she confessed, slumping her hands at her side as if she was protesting, "I—I always forget that talking about him is probably not something you want to hear—"

Adam suddenly felt like throwing up, "He grew his hair out?!"

Blue opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, chewing on her lips and looking at Adam with pity, "I mean, just a bit—"

"It's fine." he said, trying to sound casual when he was actually feeling the tips of his fingers burn, "I'm just surprised, that's all. And you can talk about him. He's your friend."

Blue touched his hand, "You're my friend, too."

"Adam!" he heard before he could reply. Adam turned to the dining room's door to see Richard Gansey the Third, wine glass in hand, stumbling towards him with the biggest, goofiest smile he'd ever seen, "You're here!"

He laughed, walking forward to meet Gansey half way. By the time they were merely centimeters apart, Gansey stumbled and fell into his arms, "Wow, buddy."

He hugged Adam like a koala, "I'm so glad you're here." it came out muffled by how he was saying it into his shirt, "Henrietta is not the same without you."

"You've been here for a day, Dick." said Blue, coming to help Adam set Gansey up straight. She took the wine glass from his hand, both of which chased after it, "Ah ah ah. No more alcohol for you, darling."

Gansey pouted, "Why do I let you have this much control over me?"

Blue patted his chest, "You're a monarch, Gansey. You've gotta be set straight by someone."

Adam looked between his best friends, grinning despite himself. He knew this would be hard, but making the decision to come to Fox Way for Christmas meant seeing his friends like this, happy and in love. For his lack thereof, it made him feel warm inside, gathering a cheerfulness he hadn’t expected when it came to being in that gruesome old town.

"Hey dickwad, could you please park that damn piece of shit somewhere that's not the fucking sideways?"

The blissful moment was ripped away at once. Standing by the door was Ronan Lynch, dressed in black jeans and a button up black shirt. A shirt _Adam_ had bought him when his first check from his new job had come and it seemed like a good present for Ronan’s 19th birthday, just because he knew Ronan would never even consider wearing something like that.

And yet the shirt wasn’t what paralyzed Adam. He’d underestimated Blue when she said he’d grown his hair out, judging by the stunning sight of him with lustful, scalp-covering hair. He thought it would be just a few inches, just a layer of thin hair. But no. Ronan had _curls_ , hanging on top of his head, dark and beautiful. Ronan looked skinnier, like there were thousands of meals he hadn't eaten; he looked troubled and bothered and Adam didn’t think _anything_ Ronan did was going to set him off, that he’d be calm and civilized and he wouldn’t let him get to him but _fuck_. Ronan looked fucking gorgeous.

"Adam!" a high-pitched voice said, and Adam only tore his eyes away from Ronan's when Opal Lynch came trotting his way. He looked down at her, not missing the look Ronan gave him before he smiled at the girl.

"Opal." he said, and picked her up, "God, you've grown so much."

Opal smiled before hugging his neck, "Where have you been? Kerah said it might be a while until you came back."

"Opal." Ronan warned.

He shot Ronan a glance before softening to look at Opal, "It's okay." he said, "I was at school."

Her mouth formed an 'O', "I'm in school too!" then, it looked like realization hit her, "I've never seen you around, though."

Adam laughed, "I don't think we go to the same one, kiddo."

She didn't seem to understand, "Opal, don't be rude." said Ronan. Adam hadn't realized he was holding something until he set it down on the kitchen table. A pack of beer, of course, "Go say hi to everyone else."

Gansey knelt and took Opal in his arms looking like the happiest man on earth, "Hey, kid." called Blue from behind her boyfriend, hands on her knee so she could talk to Opal on her eye level, "Wanna peek at the presents?"

Opal smiled cheerily, and took Blue's hand before both of them left to the other room, leaving a very drunk Gansey, a frustrated Adam and an unreadable Ronan.

Gansey got up; Adam helped him as he threw a hand over his best friends’ shoulder, "I love you guys, do you know that?" Ronan was putting the food he brought away, occasionally stealing glances at Gansey's state, "Adam. Do you know how much I love you?"

Ronan chuckled, "Damn." he shook his head once, "How much did you have to drink, old man?"

Gansey lifted his eyebrows, "Eight glasses of wine."

"Jesus, Gansey." said Adam.

"Weak motherfucker." 

Adam furrowed his brows at him, trying to keep Gansey from falling, "Like you're no different."

Ronan chuckled again, and opened the fridge before getting two beers out, "Touché, Parrish." he set them on the counter, gazing worthlessly at Adam stumbling with a half-asleep Gansey until he slipped down on the kitchen table, "Hi, by the way."

Adam took a breath after he positioned Gansey laying over the wooden surface. He looked at Ronan in disbelief, "Hi? Really?"

Ronan slid him the beer, slumping his shoulders, "What else I am supposed to say?"

Adam didn't take the beer, "I'll be in the dining room."

He walked out before Ronan could say anything else.

Hi? Was he being serious? After everything they had gone through, all those times, moments, memories made, how could Ronan act so... indifferent about him? How could he just appear, with _hair_ , for fuck’s sake, and act that normal? Like nothing had ever happened? Like they were just buddies who casually disliked each other at school?

Adam’s head felt like swelling considerably at every second. He couldn’t think like that. Not today, at least. He needed to get through tonight, for Gansey and Blue, not for himself or Ronan. 

He got to the living room and greeted the ladies of Fox Way one by one, stopping to chat with each and every one of them; Maura asked about school, how he was holding up and what he was planning on majoring in. Jimi asked about the girls and if he had found someone to ‘play around with’. Adam simply laughed, and moved on, not wanting to tell her he’s been celibate for... six months.

Calla, though, was rather differently. Adam was aware that everyone in the house knew about how bad his break up with Ronan had been, and up until now, no one has dared mentioning it. No one expect Calla.

“I see you’ve met up with Snake.” she said, not wasting a damn second when Adam and her parted from their hug.

He frowned, “How did you—”

“You stink, Coke.” she grimaced, just a bit, “Of at least thirty different emotions at once. And I didn’t even need psychic powers to smell it.”

“I’m okay, Calla, really—”

She put up a hand, stopping him, “Oh, I’m sure you are. Going to that fancy school you’ve always dreamed of. That’s not what I’m saying, Handsome.”

Adam simply sighed, and listened because he knew better than to argue with Calla.  She gave him a pitiful look, and touched his arm, just below where his shirt sleeve ended, “Talk to him.” she said, “He’s a mess.”

A wave of anger surged through him, “That’s not my fault.”

“Am I saying it is?” she let go, and walked to the division between the living room and the kitchen, where Ronan and Gansey talked lightly just a few feet away. They faced each other, and Adam could only see the side of their faces, “He spends most of his days between Monmouth and here. He even drinks tea with Maura and I sometimes.”

Adam furrowed his eyebrows, still looking at the two boys talking nonchalantly, “That’s... unlike him.”

“Damn sure it is.” Adam forced himself to drag his eyes from Ronan once more; God, the hair looked really fucking good.

“I don’t think I can do it, though. Talk to him.”

Calla nodded, “You can, you just don’t know how.” 

Adam considered for a moment; he didn’t know what to say to Ronan, not after what they said to each other that night six months ago. Not after everything Adam went through alone, because Ronan said all those things. “I can’t do it tonight.” he said after a while, turning to look at Ronan and Gansey once more and noticing Gansey rested his head on Ronan’s shoulder, who cooed him saying something Adam couldn’t hear.

“No.” said Calla, “Not tonight. Give it a day, Coke. Let him come to you.”

Adam snorted, “That’s not going to happen.” just then, Ronan raised his gaze, and met Adam’s eyes. Usually, all those months ago, it took Adam less than a second to decode Ronan’s eyes, but everything seemed different now. He didn’t know if it was because of how long they spent apart, or of how they ended things, but both of them had changed. Not drastically, but just enough to look in each others eyes and forget what the other meant just by a simple look.

Adam averted his gaze, and realized he had been standing there alone. He cursed Calla inside his head, knowing she had noticed Ronan staring and Adam staring back, like it had always been.

No, thought Adam, not tonight.

 

***

 

Adam found Blue and Henry talking by the Christmas tree as he walked away from Ronan’s heavy gaze. It already felt like he’d been there for hours, just trying to avoid that stupid mass of black hair. And to top it off, Adam knew because of the season Ronan wasn’t getting much sun, so his dark skin was light in comparison to his hair. It made Adam want to punch a wall.

“Addy!” screamed Henry.

“I told you not to call me that.” he grumbled, but gave Henry a hug as if he hadn’t seen him just two days ago at campus. It was really the lucks of the world that Henry had also been accepted into Columbia and was now rather close to Adam while Blue and Gansey weren’t around.

He would deny it if asked, but it was Henry who helped him back on his feet after Ronan broke up with him. His second year of school was marked by sleepless nights as just a tad of his grades dropping — something other people wouldn’t worry about, but it was unlikely for Adam. Henry, being his selfless and witty self, made Adam stop feeling sorry for himself in no time. 

“You love it.” he said in his ear, but just loud enough for Blue to hear. He turned to her, “It’s a real catch in the bedroom.”

“Wow. I knew you two would get along well but I didn’t think it’d be _that_ well.”

Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, trying to run from Henry’s arm on his shoulders, “Henry—”

“Oh, c’mon, Addy! I think it’s time we tell our friends about our marriage.”

“I knew there was more to you two.” And fuck, if Adam didn’t know that panicked Blue look, he would have fucking _not_ turned around to see what she was looking at so worriedly.

“Sorry to disrupt the reception.” said Ronan, sighing as he pointedly looked at both Blue and Henry, completely ignoring Adam’s gaze, “But your fucking wife is puking outside, Sargent. All over Calla’s beloved flowers.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Ronan.” he set her glass down, “And could you not have helped him to a bathroom?!”

Ronan shrugged, “I was too busy laughing.”

“Please tell me you recorded it.” said Henry.

Blue shot them a look before padding angrily away, “Are you kidding? Of course I have. Two minutes and forty seconds of Prince Barf.”

Adam felt a surge of anger shoot through him. Oh, so now Ronan used his phone? Maybe a person _could_ change entirely in six months. He wouldn’t know though. Ronan gave him the pleasure of blocking him on everything possible. Even his phone number— mainly because Adam really _had_ to stop sending stoned voicemails telling Ronan he was a lousy cocksucker.

“I love you.” said Henry to Ronan, “Did you know what? You’re the best.”

Ronan tsked, shooting Adam one short and indifferent look before walking away toward where Blue had gone.

“I, on the other hand, hate him.” said Adam. Henry tipped his champagne before patting his back, full on knowing how Adam just _wanted_ to hate him. He never really could.

“Then get fucking wasted, Addy.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT—” 

 

***

 

“You were amazing, Ronan.” 

“Parrish—”

“No. Let me say this. Just this once.”

He remembered vividly that Ronan and him had been stumbling inside the Barns late that night, after Ronan had had the most intense conversation with Declan Adam had ever seen. It was a long weekend and Adam still had two days before he needed to head back, so Ronan and him were making the most of it.

The dream was just like he remembered; Ronan’s beautiful face masked by sadness, and though the conversation had gone just fine, Adam didn’t seem to notice how blue Ronan had been acting for the past three days.

Of course, when Adam was around he hid it. He smiled. He laughed. He still cursed and called Adam names. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But Adam noticed the moment they walked through that door that night, a 100% certain it was because of Declan.

He didn’t think he’d ever been that wrong.

“I know Declan can be a dick sometimes. I know that, Ronan.” once Ronan was done locking the front door, Adam placed both his hands on each side of his face, caressing his cheek, trying to make the situation a bit better, “But he’s trying. He truly is. And I’m so _proud_ of you for standing up to him like that—”

And then, Ronan took a step back.

Adam remembered frowning, “Ronan—”

“I can’t do this.” 

The words hit Adam like a plane crash. He blinked, “Can’t do what?”

“You know what.” 

Ronan held his gaze; Adam knew him well enough to notice how hard Ronan was holding back his tears, as he’d memorized every single one of Ronan’s bodily reactions. This one, Adam noted, was of fear, of vulnerability and of forgiveness. His stomach dropped. His body felt suddenly too heavy, too much, too powerless.

“I—” he gulped, “I don’t understand.”

He wasn’t acting like himself, he remembered that much. He knew he was acting stupid, and not fighting back like Adam Parrish usually would, but couldn’t think about nothing else except that he knew everything. Adam Parrish knew everything and he saw things coming from a mile away but this...

This his Adam like a truck.

Ronan was silent for a while; Adam knew for a fact that in that small moment of silence Ronan was debating if he would deal with the situation like Ronan, drag racer, high school dropout, sharp and edges, or if he would deal with _Ronan_ , boyfriend, best friend, brother.

He didn’t choose the latter.

“I’m breaking up with you, shithead.” he spat, “Want me to draw a picture?”

Adam stood paralyzed, trying to breathe in and out but constantly forgetting how. He looked at Ronan then and noticed he was struggling to even stand up straight, trying too hard to keep his tears back. Nothing about it made sense.

“Are you fucking serious?” asked Adam.

Ronan shot him a murderous, warning look, as if warning Adam not to push it, “Parrish—”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

Suddenly, Adam was so angry he wanted to beat the living shit out of him, “Why?” he gritted out. 

Ronan turned his back to him as if he were tired of the conversation, “I don’t owe you a fucking reason. This is my choice.”

“You can _not_ be serious—”

“I fucking _am_.”

“Fine, then!” he shouted “Two years, Ronan. We’ve been together for fucking _two years_ and you— you don’t owe me a reason? Tell me, you fucking piece of shit.” Ronan said nothing, “ _Tell me_.”

Ronan’s eyes were blown wide. If Adam’s didn’t know any better, it could’ve easily looked like he’d used drugs. He was sweating, almost panting, “You think this is easy for me?” his voice was poison, “You think I’m _liking_ the fact that this didn’t fucking work out? I hate it, Adam.” 

“If you hate it then _don't do it_.” he came closer to Ronan, trying to keep his voice even, “Ronan, we can figure this out—”

“We can’t.” Ronan was looking at his feet.

“Ronan—” he plead now, visibly vulnerable, torn open, and his eyes swelling. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried. In his entire life, of all the ups and downs, he’d never fucking cried.

“You fucking heard me. We can’t. Christ, Adam I can’t.” Ronan turned to him.

“You’re not making any sense!” screeched Adam, viciously, pacing to stand in front on Ronan, who took a step back in retaliation and hit the wall, “Is this a joke to you?! Are you trying— to— to _test_ me or something?!”

Ronan shook his head once, “It’s not a joke.” he said, low, “Why the fuck why I joke about this?!”

Adam squinted his eyes at him, “ _Then talk to me!_ Ronan—”

“No.” he spat, “Fucking listen to me for once in your _miserable_ life. How about that?!” he had hit the countertop so hard Adam flinched back, a small, yet detectable gasp escaping his lips.

Ronan almost looked regretful. Just for a second.

“This— this _is not working_.” his voice straightened. Adam looked back on that moment now, after analyzing it a million times in his head and saw how clearly it was hurting Ronan — God, how could’ve not _seen_ it?! Ronan’s incredibly good acting? — how strained his voice was, “And— I think it’s time we face the fucking fact that this _isn't_ what we wanted, and it sure as fuck isn’t what we expected. So, I want you to do me a fucking favor and _leave_.”

“You’re _wrong_ — Ronan, how can you even _think_ that—”

“Shut _up_ , Adam.” he was screaming, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t bare the sight of him like that; crying, shoulders tense, jaw clenched and his heart ripped open. And Ronan fucking knew how much he hated screaming, “You don’t see it because it’s always about _you_. It’s always about you and your fucking school, and how I have to drive there, how I put _much_ more effort in this relationship than _you_ do.”

Adam remembered he stood silent. He was trying to process it. Process whatever the _hell_ had just come out from Ronan’s mouth. It was a fucking _speech_. _Planned_. The one thing missing was the piece of paper, probably entirely scratched and doodled from Ronan _trying_ to say something that made any tiny drop of sense. Because Ronan knew all too well how scared Adam was to lose their relationship because he’d _always_ thought his emotional trauma would get the best of him. He knew he wasn’t as affectionate as Ronan, or even as verbally demonstrative. Adam _knew_ that accusation was just to hurt him, to make him leave; they had talked about it too much, and Ronan had assured him every single time that he _wasn't_ giving any less to the relationship than Ronan was.

“You’re a fucking liar, Ronan Lynch.” Ronan’s eyes followed the small tear sliding down his cheek, “You’re a _coward_. And a fucking dumbass if you think I’d buy this.”

“Get out, Adam.” Ronan looked down, “Please.”

Adam should’ve been _smarter_ than that. He should’ve seen right through Ronan; the nervous, anxious fist shaking, waiting for Adam to say something back. To _fight_ him back. To prove Ronan wrong.

But he didn’t. He took one, tear-eyed look at the love of his life and turned. It felt like a never-ending road from the kitchen to the front porch, and when he finally reached the doorknob, he thought, _God_ how he thought Ronan would yell at him go wait, to come back to him and tell him he was wrong, that he was just mad and frustrated at Declan and he felt like throwing his anger at Adam just for the likes of it. 

But Ronan stood silent, watching him hesitate. For a moment Adam thought that if he’d look back he’d see Ronan crying, and immediately knew if he did, he would _never_ be able to leave this house, even after everything Ronan had just said.

So he opened the door and walked out.

*** 

Waking up remembering that scene was common for Adam. He’d even been obsessed enough to draw it, write it down like a script, trying to decipher Ronan’s words like an enigma. What had gone _wrong_? What had he _done_ wrong?

Blue was snoring on the bed beside him, her head on Gansey’s chest as they slept on like nothing could touch them. Sometimes Adam wanted them to break up so he didn’t need to see the evident love in their eyes, the way they touched each other lightly throughout the day just so the other knew how they felt. How easy it was for Gansey to reach down and peck Blue’s lips with a kiss, followed by a whisper of “Good morning” Adam knew was only meant for her ears.

He knew it all too well. The shameless affection that came with being in love. Wanting to touch the person you love every single second of every day because you feel like you’ll die without it. It wasn’t as if Adam and Ronan had ever been big on PDA, but it was the smallest things that Adam missed the most. Hand holding, or light touches to his arm as Ronan reached up to the cupboard, the press of Ronan’s lips to his palm as they watched a movie at Monmouth. Adam found it hard to not think about those when Blue and Gansey were doing exactly that. He missed Ronan’s body that close to his, _craved_ it even. He missed the soft words he knew Ronan had only reserved for him, and for him only. 

He let Blue and Gansey have the room to themselves and trotted down the stairs to see if one of the psychics had left some coffee. The house was already buzzing with women’s voices, coming from all places, and as Adam perched himself on the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in hand, he let himself listen their sounds. 

He missed Henrietta more than he could ever admit. It was still the town he met his friends, the town they’d searched for Glendower, the one he graduated in and the one he fell in love in. 

It’d be entirely too difficult to forget all of those things.

 

***

Gansey and Blue insisted on taking Adam out for dinner on the 26th. They knew he needed to head back the day after that right before sundown, when traffic was good. As they parked the Pig outside the new Italian restaurant just outside town, Adam asked hesitantly and desperately tried to hide his interest, “Is Ronan coming?” 

Gansey and Blue exchanged looks, “I— Yeah.” said Gansey, “He— he wants to talk to you.”

“We know we should’ve checked with you beforehand.” said Blue hastily, “But we promised him not to tell you.”

“Why?”

Gansey sighed, “Adam—”

“No, Gans.” he said, “I get it.”

“You don’t.” Blue’s voice wasn’t pitiful anymore, “He wants— _needs_ to talk to you, Adam. If we told you he was coming this morning would you have come to dinner?”

Adam opened his mouth as if to protest that _yes_ , he would have. But then again, he might’ve been so angry at the thought Ronan didn’t directly talk to him that he’d probably lash out, say no, and leave a day earlier just out of spite. He closed his mouth, and looked at Blue with stern eyes, “Didn’t think so.” she said.

Of course, six months did nothing for Ronan’s punctuality. By the time Adam’s stomach was growling and Gansey was finally raising his hand to order without him, he barged in, looking completely like himself, walking as if he’d done _nothing_ wrong and sitting beside Adam, of all people, before turning to Gansey and saying “I hate that shirt on you. Makes you look like a homo.” 

Gansey didn’t need to look down as if to inspect the shirt like he would’ve probably done if the atmosphere wasn’t as tense, “Do you realize that comment is only insulting towards yourself?” 

“Shut up, Dick.”

For a moment Adam felt like laughing, just because it was _that_ easy to feel like he was back in senior year, with Ronan making fun of Gansey and not missing the chance to join in. Back then he would’ve had Ronan’s hand in his at dinner and their comments would be light and playful. Gansey and Blue would laugh it off, and they’d all order something gross to share.

But it wasn’t like that anymore. Adam’s hand was far from Ronan’s, and Gansey didn’t laugh at the comment because, frankly, it wasn’t that funny if the rest didn’t laugh as well. 

Blue visibly kicked Ronan under the table, “Can you be fucking civil, for _once_?”

“So,” said Gansey, ever the diplomat, as Ronan didn’t retort, “Adam. Jane and I are watching a movie at 8. I’ll leave you the keys to Monmouth and you can crash there until you leave tomorrow.”

“No need.” said Ronan, and Adam turned his head, heart skipping a beat, to look at Ronan still head-in the menu, as if he were reading a book, “He’s staying at the Barns.”

Adam scoffed. He couldn’t believe his ears, “The fuck I am.”

“Fine.” said Ronan, still not looking at him, “Just thought you’d want to stay there. Y’know. Considering.” 

“You considered wrong.” he said, and turned to Gansey, “Thanks, Gans.” 

But before Gansey could hand him the key, Ronan snatched it, finally looking up at Adam’s wild expression. God, he was furious _enough_. He didn’t need Ronan pushing his buttons. And for what? What did he get out of messing with him? Did he feel pleasure making comments and acting the same fucking way he did when they were still together? 

“Ronan.” warned Gansey.

“This isn’t funny, Ronan.” Adam hated how his voice had clearly broken. He felt Blue’s hands on his shaking ones under the table trying to calm him.

Ronan twirled the key on a finger, “Who said I was being funny?”

“Enough, Lynch.” this time it was Blue, “You’re not helping. Seriously, dude.”

Ronan looked between all three of them, biting the inside of his cheek. Adam guessed he wanted to say a billion things at that moment, but none of his thoughts seemed to form a sentence. He knew Ronan well enough to recognize when he was trying _so hard_ to no spill his entire brain in one go. So he sighed, and turned to Adam.

“Stay at the Barns.” his voice was calmer, the voice he used to control himself, “If you wanna leave at any moment then fine. Take the BMW, sleep at Monmouth’s and Gansey’ll pick me up in the morning.” Adam opened his mouth to say something, but Ronan didn’t let him, “Just— Please.”

And— Yeah. Ronan saying please made Adam want to transport himself to the Barns immediately. He knew how much effort it came with it — God knows how many times he and Adam had fought about the simple fact that Ronan was never polite. But he couldn’t swallow it. He couldn’t think about even seeing the Barns in the horizon without his stomach turning. He didn’t even know if it was because of that stupid breakup, or because it just _hurt_ too much to stand there and feel the same space he and Ronan had been a couple for 90% of the time spent there.

He missed Ronan, he really did, but something he’d lost alongside Ronan was a home. He lost the feeling of going to a house where you felt safe on holidays, where you knew where everything went and had your own little space, your little knick-knacks and items around the whole place. Now Adam only had his shabby college dorm that he shared with a guy he barely knew, and lived his days longing for something that would never come anymore. Before he and Ronan split, he was happy enough having his friends on campus, going to the classes he wanted to but overall he had a _life_ outside of it. He knew that if it ever became too much he could drive to the Barns and _breathe_.

After six months not having that safe place, Adam now felt like stepping inside it would likely destroy him.

“I can’t.” said Adam finally. It took him merely five seconds to even _think_ about the possibility of seeing the kitchen, the sofa, the cow barn and fuck— Ronan’s room. All of those places he could picture times when he and Ronan kissed for hours to end, slept curled together and laughed, _happy_ , forgetting everything else existed, “You’re asking for too much and you know it.”

Ronan probably knew he was. Maybe that’s why he asked; well knowing Adam just wanted so damn _badly_ to sleep in his own bed. A bed that _they_ had chosen together – while arguing over how domestic they were – and a bed that Adam had slept in for two years. Maybe Ronan knew Adam just wanted to go home. Because that’s what it was; Adam’s first, real home.

“Adam—”

And he _couldn't_ bare the sound of his name on Ronan’s lips. It was all too much, too familiar. Adam was moving _on_. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need Ronan to make him feel this way again, and he _wouldn't_ , “I’m sorry— I can’t—”

“Wait, Adam—” Blue had called, but Adam just needed to get out of there. To breathe. _Far_ away from Ronan and _whatever_ the hell that stunt was. The air outside the diner was cold and relieving on him and all Adam wanted to do was drive back to New York to his dorm and _sleep_. Not think, not talk.

“Hey.” said Blue after she gave him a moment, “C’mon. I’ll drive you to Monmouth and we can talk for a bit. How does that sound?”

 

***

Blue made him some tea.

He sat cross-legged on Gansey’s king sized bed as a soft song drifted from the record player in the far-right corner. _The Smiths, Asleep_ , he thought. Gansey had renovated most parts of the building, even expanding Ronan and Noah’s rooms, though Adam guessed one was now vacated, “I only have earl grey. That okay?”

“Yeah.” said Adam honestly. He didn’t even like tea. He was only complying because he guessed it was probably the one thing Blue knew how to make.

“Here.” she said, and passed him a mug before sitting cross-legged as well, “How you feelin’?”

“More like myself, to be honest.” he looked down at the dark liquid, focusing on the lights from above reflected in it, “I’m not myself around Ronan.”

“You were.”

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah.” said Blue sadly, “Not anymore.”

Blue and him sat in silence for a moment. Adam didn’t feel the need to explain himself, or justify his actions. He felt drained, like even thinking about Ronan took a toll on him. He thought Blue understood his feelings better than Gansey. Adam suspected Gansey still had hope for Ronan and him getting back together, which is why he hadn’t ever talked to Adam about their breakup. Adam remembers when he tried, this once, but failed miserably in voicing his opinion. He _had_ tried to make it sound like he didn’t blame anyone for it, except everything he’d said just made Adam feel worse. There should’ve been someone to blame. Maybe then Adam could’ve just apologized, and maybe Ronan would’ve said yes, or maybe he’d have said no. Either way, at least then they’d have a _reason_. Adam would still be in love with Ronan, but he’d accept the fact that _he_ was the one fucking it up and move on.

But Ronan hadn’t given him a choice. He hadn’t explained _why_. 

“I hate him, Blue.” he said quietly, voice shamelessly tinted with melancholy, tracing the rim of his mug, “He makes me so fucking mad.”

“You don’t hate him.” She answered almost dismissively, “And it’s okay to be upset, Adam. It’s okay to be angry.”

“Oh, I’m angry,” Blue smirked, just slightly, then closed off.

“Just— just know that he’s like that as well, okay?” her voice was still sad. Adam knew how much she loved Ronan, and how much Ronan loved her. He understood why Blue would want to try and conciliate, but it just made Adam remember they’d even been _that_ couple who shared their friends down the middle, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was entirely Ronan’s fault.

“I know, Blue. Calla told me.” He said, looking up at her, “But don’t expect me to do anything about it.”

“I won’t.” Blue was looking at him like a kicked puppy, “But maybe if you listen to what he has to say—”

“After he’s done acting like a child, maybe then.”

“You know he’s just trying to get your attention.” 

Adam said nothing. The truth was that he knew all of what Blue was telling him. He knew Ronan was suffering and putting no effort in moving on, but it still pissed him off. None of this would’ve been happening if Ronan _hadn't_ said all those things and decided without Adam. Maybe he didn’t hate _Ronan_ , but he hated what he did, how worthless he made Adam feel, as if all those praises and whispered compliments he had said for two whole years were lies.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He said, standing up and placing his mug on the table.

“Okay.” Said Blue, “Oh, Gansey downloaded Grand Budapest Hotel for you.”

Adam stopped and smiled, just slightly, just the ends of his lips. Gansey knew that was his favorite movie; they’d watched it too many times for it not to be. He hadn’t watched it in so long though, as Gansey had always insisted they watch it together.

“Thanks, Blue.”

***

Adam got out of the shower five minutes later and smelled popcorn instantly. He and Blue sat down on the couch and watched maybe half an hour of the movie before Gansey honked outside. Blue looked over at him apologetically, but being alone for a few hours didn’t seem like the end of the world. She kissed his cheek, “Promise me you’ll be okay.”

“I will, Blue.” They hugged, “I’ll call you.”

“Yes, please do.” She said, “But like, wait a few hours? Gansey’s taking me out for desert later.”

Adam chuckled, “You don’t have to say it twice.”

As Blue left, he walked over to the couch thinking maybe he could drive up to New York early in the morning. He knew both Blue and Gansey would protest, but being Henrietta had a limit, and as much as Adam wanted to be with his best friends, he didn’t think it was a good idea to be there more than he needed to be. Just then, knock came from the narrow front door and snapped Adam from his thoughts; it hadn’t been even two minutes since Blue had left Monmouth.

“I’m fine, Blue. You can go on your date. I promise—”

“Not Sargent.” Said a voice Adam recognized like the back of his hand.

Ronan was leaning at the entrance wearing a hoodie and black jeans, hands in his pockets and a small, apologetic look on his face. There was none of the aggressive and threatening look he was wearing when Adam stormed out of the diner; this look Adam knew well. He’d memorized it, for Christ’s sake, and seeing it again did everything to Adam’s broken heart, “So look, I’m sorry.”

Adam stood frozen, “What?”

Ronan managed a smirk, “I said,” and took a step forward, cowering over Adam as he stood his ground, “I’m sorry.”

Adam frowned, searching his face, looking for that trace of irony, “Since when do you have manners.”

“Since my ex fucking boyfriend came into town.” he was inside now, closing the door behind him, amusingly staring at a _speechless_ Columbia student.

He shot Ronan a glance, “You’ve hardly talked to me since I arrived, Ronan.” 

Ronan frowned, “Have I got the wrong twink? Because mine would remember words are not... my strong suit.”

“I beg to differ.” and Adam squinted, “And I’m not yours. Or a twink, for that matter.”

“No.” Ronan’s smirk was gone, “You aren’t.”

Adam knew he wasn’t talking about the twink part. He cursed himself mentally, proving again it was easy to lose himself in Ronan’s words when he was standing just _there_ , and fucking _apologizing_. It was easy to forget how heartbroken he was and wanted desperately to make Ronan _beg_ his forgiveness. He felt as if they were playing a game, in which whatever they said felt like a bomb that could explode at any moment. 

Though just then, Adam didn’t know if it was the past anger towards Ronan that had numbed itself back to memories, but the light banter didn’t make him feel the heavy air that surrounded them like it had been back at the diner. It reminded Adam of the way Ronan and him used to be before they dated, even with the angst and awkward conversation. It made Adam want to hug him, to envelop him in his arms and squeeze the way he did six months ago, to cut off the sounds of everything else. God.

“Give me a chance to talk.” Ronan said as Adam sat on the sofa, tucking his legs under himself, “Five minutes of your time and if by then you want me gone, I’ll go.”

Adam inhaled a small breath, eyeing Ronan’s pleading posture, and sighed, “I’ll give you ten.” 

Ronan took that as a sign for him to finally sit down, farther away than Adam wanted him to, “How generous.”

“Don’t push it, Lynch.” Ronan smirked, nodded, but said nothing. Adam could tell he was nervous by rigid he sat, fiddling with a piece of dust where he leaned on the back of the sofa. When Adam’s eyes caught sight of him hurriedly bouncing his leg, Ronan gaze followed his before they snapped up to meet again.

Adam cleared his throat, “Are you gonna blurt out a written speech just like the one you did six months ago?”

He flinched, “Was I that fucking easy to read?”

“No.” said Adam, almost dismissively, and for a moment looking at Ronan made him feel trapped, “I just— you know—”

“Thought it over a billion times?” He glanced up to see Ronan slightly smirking, “Wrote it down? Memorized it? Anagrammed it?”

Adam nodded, “All the above.”

Ronan pressed his lips together, “I figured as much.”

It didn’t feel like they were going to fight. No, those Adam smelled a mile away, even on good days. Ronan was entirely too transparent, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, not caring if there would be consequences. When Ronan entered his defenseless, vulnerable mode – one he’d only go into with either Adam or Matthew – no fights would come of it. Adam felt his pulse quicken at the thought of whatever was going to leave Ronan’s mouth, and secretly, though enthusiastically hoped it was an apology.

“I think you know why I wanted to talk to you.” Ronan says after a while. The movie was unpaused by then and the soft voices were background noise to the silent, but not unpleasant atmosphere that hung around them, which Adam found was incredibly louder. It wasn’t necessarily tension they had between them, but it felt like he was breathing nothing. 

“I don’t.” said Adam, and Ronan flicked his gaze to him like he wasn’t being serious, “I don’t, Ronan. You’re gonna have to use that written speech again.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, rubbing his face, “This was easier when I did it to Sargent.”

Adam frowned at him, “You practiced what you were gonna say to me to _Blue_?”

“Shut up.” He said, his tone light, “She just helped me out a bit.”

“Fine.” Adam turned and sat facing Ronan, “You have ten minutes.”

“Fuck. Okay. If we’re going straight to the point, I wanna apologize for the way—you know— things— ”

“Ended?” 

“Yeah.” Ronan wasn’t looking at him anymore, “My practiced speech didn’t exactly go as planned. You kinda outsmarted me on it.”

“It was a terrible fucking speech.”

Ronan laughed, “Yeah, I know. You bought it, though.”

“I didn’t.” his voice was quiet, “You gave me no choice.”

Ronan didn’t seem to have a good enough comeback for that. It already felt like they were going in circles, always going back to a mental space where both loathed to be in, and much rather talk about something else. As much as Adam wanted to it over with, he knew this wasn’t even the beginning. He broke their silence, “Why did you do it, Ronan?”

“Adam—”

“No planned speech.” He said, his voice stern, warning, tired of the truth being hidden from him, “Just tell me.”

“It wasn’t anything you did.” Ronan shook his head, and Adam felt the urge to scream at him. He surely felt differently about the matter six months ago, “I know I said it fucking was. But it wasn’t.”

Adam let it sink in for a second, disbelieving what Ronan was saying, “That makes no fucking sense.”

Ronan sighed, and closed his eyes for a brief second. Adam knew he was struggling to piece everything he wanted to say together, to arrange the order of events, “Look, Parrish.” he said, “I— I was never going to breakup with you. I mean, how fucking could I? I thought it was a miracle that you even looked at me the way you did. I never even fucking understood _why_ you did.”

“Ronan, we’ve been through this—” he whined. This wasn’t the first time Ronan had felt this way, Adam remembered that much. After Glendower, Ronan seemed to be more open about whatever he had in his mind; it was still restricted and hard at times, but eventually Ronan would blow up one day with an insecurity he’d been carrying along for what seemed to be months and Adam would deal with them carefully and patiently until Ronan realized it wasn’t like that, that he had nothing to worry about. Most of his insecurities were always about being uninteresting, unattractive, damaging and damaged. Adam didn’t let Ronan sleep until he made sure he understood he was _none_ of those things, that he loved and appreciated Ronan for who he was.

But words were never their strong suit.

“I _know_ , Adam.” He said, exasperated, “But it fucking got to me one day. I— I couldn’t stand myself anymore and I didn’t— I didn’t want you to see it.”

“Ronan—”

“Look, I know, okay?” he opened his hands, letting them fall, “Gansey and Sargent already gave me the talk, Adam. I _get_ it was stupid. I _get_ that I fucking lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And because of what?! _I get it_ , Adam.” He was so frustrated, so drained and unhappy that it didn’t feel like the conversation was about their breakup anymore, “So I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I never fucking meant _any_ of the things I said.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything? God, Ronan—” Adam was used to it, honestly. He was used to Ronan’s mood changes and used to the fact that the one person alive Ronan hated the most was himself. But Adam didn’t _see_ it get to a point where it led to Ronan _breaking up_ with him over it. Fuck.

“You were never gonna stay with me.” Ronan’s voice changed, “So it didn’t matter. I just wanted you to leave before it got worse.”

Adam chuckled in disbelief, in sadness, “You’re such a dumbass.”

In less than a second, he was scooting over to Ronan and hugging him. And God it felt so insanely, absurdly good to be that close to him again. Ronan stood frozen for a moment, like he had to process the fact that Adam had his arms around his neck, making Adam need to contain the smile that wanted to wash over him as the tensing faded, and Ronan completely melted against him, hugging his middle. Adam had always loved that clear, miserable process Ronan would go through with every hug they ever shared, as if he’d still didn’t believe Adam would deliberately be this close to him even after two years’ worth of a relationship.

“I’m sorry.” Ronan whispered.

“I know, you dickhead.” he pulled back, but kept close to Ronan, “You were such an asshole—”

“And I’ll never fucking forgive myself for that.” Ronan shook his head, “But— I had to do it, Adam. I had to breakup with you.”

“We could’ve figured it out together—”

“No.” he said, taking hold of Adam’s arm and squeezing just slightly as if to ground him, “I needed to figure myself out. I didn’t know who I was – I still don’t, but it’s fucking different now.” Adam decided the liked the small smirk that came with what he said, “It’s different enough for me to apologize to you.”

“I’d never thought I’d see the day you’d say sorry.” Adam held back a smile as Ronan huffed.

“It’s not common.” He said, “So don’t get used to it.”

“What should I get used to, then?” He wasn’t expecting anything from the apology, he told himself. He wanted Ronan to know that if he still needed time it was okay, that he wasn’t asking him for anything other than being able to see him from time to time, just to see how he was. He was trying and fucking _failing_ to let Ronan know whatever he decided he was okay with, but even _he_ knew the look he was giving Ronan made it clear just how much he was waiting for him to make a move, to make him forget the shit he’d said and tell Adam he still wanted to be with him. 

Ronan’s eyes were patient and sincere on him, “Whatever the hell you want, Adam.”

This was Ronan trying to say to him that whatever lay in the future for them was _Adam's_ choice, not anyone else’s. For a moment, he felt angry at Ronan for putting him in a dictator position, for making him decide something he thought he’d lost forever.

Adam thought about all those times Ronan would decline his phone calls. It was desperate and useless but Adam would be buzzing with fury and call Ronan just to hear his rich, deep voice tell Adam Opal wouldn’t stop screaming for him, and a second later he was talking with a little invented girl. He’d frequently and completely avoid the hole in his chest left by looking at Ronan’s caller ID on his phone, collecting that one second of voice he got out of it, at least.

Ronan never tried to contact him otherwise. He’d deleted the little social media he had – the ones Adam had insisted he make, and all posts and picture had a trace of Adam in it – and strictly forbid Blue and Gansey to play messengers. And now—

Now Ronan was apologizing.

God, if this had been two months ago Adam would’ve fucking cried. It had been his peak of frustration about the breakup, when Blue had come to visit him and she refused to talk about Ronan. Adam was on his third month of thinking about the fucking idiot every single day, but not getting to hear his voice, or talk to him, or even know how he was doing. 

“Ronan—” he said, waiting for the nausea that waved over him to die down, “You know how much you’re asking of me right now.” Ronan sighed and looked away, but he was still so close to Adam he could feel the energy he was giving off, “You can’t expect me to just—forget six months of my life and pretend like nothing happened. It doesn’t work like that—”

“I know it doesn’t.” he said in a voice that Adam almost felt like had already given up. He hated it, “That’s why it’s up to you. Whenever you fucking want to decide, Adam. I know you’d hate me for saying I’d wait for you, but we both know it’s fucking true.”

Adam couldn’t fucking believe it, “Are you seriously gonna put that much pressure on me?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Ronan was trying really hard to keep his cool, “Even if we date around we both know I’ll always have feelings for you. You’re too fucking smart to think or even say otherwise.”

“And you expect me to drive up to New York knowing this?” he desperately wanted to leave. To leave or kiss Ronan senseless, he just didn’t know which one was the fastest to make him stop talking.

Ronan seemed angrier, too, “I don’t _expect_ anything. I sure as fuck can’t, Adam, not after what I did to you.” 

He quieted, “Do you regret it, then?”

“More than anything I’ve ever done, you asshole.” Ronan looked at him angrily. But not at Adam, at himself. 

And fuck, it wasn’t every day the person who broke your heart asked to repair it, and it wasn’t every day Ronan Lynch told someone he was sorry. He searched Ronan’s elegant face, analyzing the details he missed looking at every morning; he’d known, obviously, that his boyfriend – _ex_ , dammit – was breathtaking in a way present-Adam loathed past-Adam for taking it for granted. Not seeing Ronan for six months and seeing him now, healthy and mind-blowingly handsome, saying all the right things, changed but still the same Ronan Adam fell in love with stirred a hot, heavy lust in him hadn’t realized was dormant. 

“You don’t have to say anything else.” Ronan said, “My ten minutes are up anyways—”

“Fuck the ten minutes.” Adam’s hand found Ronan’s on the couch, cold and lean, and Adam was a bit breathless, a bit disoriented.

It was if he could sense Ronan’s heart had tightened, and the breath he let out touched Adam’s lips just slightly, “Adam—”

“I—I get that you want me to decide because it’s the right thing to do.” Adam came closer, his voice low but clear, his heart beating at a rate he’d forgotten was possible, “But it’s not that easy and you know it.”

Ronan looked like he was conflicted between touching Adam, coming closer and indulging him or moving back and standing up, “What are you asking, Parrish?”

Adam fixed his eyes on him and subconsciously flickered down to his lips, his skin like burning fire, “What do you want, Ronan?”

And Ronan was fucking _dumbstruck_. He let out a breath, and Adam felt more alive than he had in months from the adrenaline, forgetting how much it could feel like a drug being close to the person you desired. He was in a reality he didn’t know he needed to survive, and he couldn’t say why he felt as if Ronan was _it_. Adam could be there forever and he wouldn’t even complain.

“You know what I want, you shit.” Ronan closed his eyes just for a second, as if he was trying to fight off an urge, “You _know_ I still want to fucking be with you—”

“Then shut up.” Ronan’s gaze flickered down to his mouth, all the while Adam was still looking at Ronan’s entirely too close one. Ronan raised a hand, slow and with purpose, and traced his jaw with his fingers. A shiver went through Adam, and _God_ , he though, _I need to touch him._

“Adam.” he repeated, and Adam didn’t think his name leaving Ronan’s mouth was something he’d miss, yet there he stood. He shook his head lightly, making Adam’s eyes shift to his. Ronan was looking at him so intensely, with such certainty that Adam _couldn't_ think of something bad coming from it, “I—”

“Shut up, Ronan.” And kissed him.

The press of Ronan’s lips to his dawned out whatever was brewing at the back of Adam’s mind, and not a second later, when Ronan’s hand found its way up the side of his face to hold his head up, Adam melted the same way Ronan did when they hugged. Ronan pressed his lips softly to Adam’s, tantalizingly slow, often how he’d start their make out sessions six months ago. Ronan had loved slow kisses, and he’d loved teasing Adam, making him always want more. He traced Adam’s top lip between his and sucked on it, before Adam parts his lips for him. When Ronan pressed their bodies closer together, Adam was gone for. He couldn’t pull away from Ronan even if he wanted to.

Ronan bit his bottom lip, making Adam tug at his hair — he’d forgotten he had hair. A wave of desire sped through Adam so ruthlessly as he tightened his hold where his hands are buried in Ronan’s hard curls, and the mood changed instantly. Adam tugged him impossibly closer, so that Ronan retaliated by using his knee to push Adam’s legs apart and insert his thigh there, before he thrusted against his groin. He gasped, so Ronan repeated his actions; he’d forgotten how _good_ it felt to have Ronan this close to him, being this bold and knowing exactly what he liked, the pace he liked it and just the perfect amount of everything.

Ronan clearly didn’t forget how much he loved kissing.

“Adam.” Ronan whispered against his lips. So perfect, pleading and vulnerable, just like Adam remembered it, “Fuck.”

“Don’t stop.” he said, breathless, his lips grazing Ronan’s desperately. Adam gave his hips a small thrust upward, “Ronan, don’t stop.”

That was all it took. Ronan delved in deeply, sharply, and kissed him so intensely Adam thought his knees would give out if he weren’t already sitting down. Ronan kissed him like the world was going to end, like it was just them, and Adam thought none of their previous make outs were like this. Except maybe they were, but he’d let himself have them for two years. He couldn’t believe he had _this_ for two years. It felt like a dream, a memory, but then it all was. Not having Ronan lick his lips open and kiss him this _passionately_ for six months was torture.

They kissed for what seemed to be an eternity, to a point where Adam was too worked up, too turned on to function properly. It’s Ronan’s slow and agonizing kissing down his jaw, stopping where he knew exactly Adam loved that made him moan exceptionally loud before straddling Ronan’s legs, pushing their bodies together and making Ronan grip his hips to slow him down.

Ronan pecked him, languid and soft, “Adam.” he said into his lips, “Are we—”

“Yes.” Adam was so far gone, he sincerely didn’t know how he hadn’t come yet. Ronan got up, carefully and still kissing him and carried him to bed. To _his_ bed, and suddenly Adam felt a pang, as if an alarm went off in his brain. Ronan set him down on his back, and crawled over him to kiss him again. And _fuck_ if this wasn’t what Adam had jerked off to for six months straight. He’d simply imagine making out with Ronan, thrusting and rubbing against him and that was it took. The memory of himself masturbating to what he was doing right then made him kiss Ronan harder before pulling Ronan’s shirt off, running his hand where he knew the tattoo was. 

“Wait.” he said, panting as Ronan kissed down his neck, just above his collar, “Did you—”

Ronan shot his head up, “What?”

“Just—” he started, “Just tell me you didn’t have sex with someone else on this bed.”

Ronan chuckled, and it filled the room in a warm welcome of Adam’s timeless longing, bringing his head up to peck Adam deeply on the lips before whispering, “I didn’t.” 

“Good.” Adam said, and pushed Ronan so he could take his shirt off as well. He knew how much Ronan liked seeing him shirtless, to kiss his stomach, lay his head on it on a lazy afternoon. But seeing Ronan’s face look down at him that moment made Adam’s whole body vibrate. He wanted that look back so much it physically hurt. He wanted it every day of every week. 

Ronan wasted no time; he clearly remembered how sensitive Adam was. He kissed down his neck and over his chest, making Adam fist the small tuffs of hair he could gather. Ronan hummed in appreciation and made his way down Adam’s stomach as he groaned loudly, his whole body twitching and straining. Ronan was so fucking skilled with his mouth; Adam could come just thinking of what was coming next.

Ronan lowered himself on top of Adam so their crotches pressed to each other. Ronan had a small yet detectable routine as they went up that path that would lead to sex. Adam moaned sweetly from it, remembering this is what he was supposed to feel like every single night. Ronan visibly liked the sound of Adam as he opened his legs until he was completely settled in between them. Adam wrapped his legs around him, grounding into Ronan, breaking their kiss to throw his head back making noises he had forgotten he was capable of.

God, Ronan was being so gentle with him, his hands barely squeezing Adam’s hips, putting just the perfect amount of pressure to leave him silently begging. He dragged Ronan to kiss him again, still feeling Ronan’s erection against his own. When Ronan pulled back, he whispered against Adam’s lips, “What do you want?”

Adam moaned against him, “You know what I like.”

“Get naked.” He said, his tone of voice making it sound like a suggestion rather than an order, but he must have had no doubt that Adam would do what he said. Adam removed his jeans and watched as Ronan did the same, moving to his boxers next. As soon as he and Ronan were entirely stripped they stopped and looked at each other, Adam feeling extraordinarily on display. 

Ronan lowered himself to lie beside him, and pulled Adam practically in top of him, kissing like his life depended on it. The sound of their mouths on each other filled Ronan’s room and made Adam want to buck up to something horrendously. Ronan’s hands were firm on the side of his stomach, squeezing then wondering, all the while Adam grew impatient. Ronan certainly didn’t change his teasing pace; Adam only felt it getting worse, trying to savor the moment.

Without breaking the kiss, Ronan slid his hand down Adam’s side, rubbing the skin and muscle lightly with his fingertips, tenderly pressing his lips to Adam’s and making them ache. He slid down further, slow but intent and clasped his hand around Adam’s cock. It was celestial; warm, velvety flesh, the slow movements up and down his shaft both teasing and infinitely satisfying. He moaned into Ronan’s mouth and felt a smile against his lips. Adam felt as if this was his first time ever getting a handjob, bucking up entirely too excited and way too close to his orgasm.

Just as Adam was starting to lose it, the hand backed off, and slipped down, cupping and rubbing his balls, reminding Adam of the glorious and comfortable times they’d done this before. Ronan propped himself up on his elbow and was looking at him again, his eyes almost entirely black, a small yet meaningful smile tugged on his lips and made Adam want to kiss him again. So he did.

“This okay?” Ronan whispered against him. They were sharing one of those kisses where you’d think was edited, just by how slow and sweet it looked. Adam nodded, well knowing that he was wearing a terribly goofy smile. Ronan’s fingers, although no longer on his cock, were mind-blowing; just the right pressure, just the right grip. When one finger slid down a little, to a silky patch of skin beneath his balls, Adam couldn’t hold back his excitement. Ronan’s smile at that was a memory Adam would save for later. 

Adam hadn’t realized that Ronan reached over to his nightstand and withdrew their usual lube, too lost in a haze of lust. Adam took one glance at it and felt the incredible urge to laugh; he hadn’t found the particular brand they liked back in New York and would always be reminded of that small detail every time he wanted to finger himself. The press of Ronan’s kiss to his cheek just then at the same time as he gave his erection a few tugs with a wonderful wet hand made Adam completely forget what he was thinking about.

“Still okay?” he asked. Ronan had always been like this, questioning whether it felt as good for Adam as it was for him. Adam nodded again, hazed and unfocused, letting his eyes slide closed, as another fingertip travelled downwards and began to rub in smooth little strokes, up and down. Adam had always loved the prepping part; he loved how he was being _prepared_ to take Ronan’s cock, how his whole body reacted to it. Ronan shifted again, and gently bit him on the hip, his mouth finding his navel and pressing a soft kiss there, before that deliciously warm tongue licked a small indent. Adam wringed a soundless whine and Ronan chose that exact moment to press his fingers to a certain spot between his legs that made Adam’s eyes roll back and his thighs fall open, shaking and begging Ronan for more.

Ronan’s finger felt like magic inside him. Adam had done that to himself trying to reenact the exact same thing his boyfriend used to do, but it never felt the same. Ronan worked his way in deeper, taking his time while kissing every inch of Adam he could reach. He managed to get his eyes open and look at Ronan just in time for them to snap shut again and roll back in his head, as Ronan leaned forward to lick the head of his cock. Adam knew he’d practically howled, loud and clear, but Ronan only licked _harder_ at that, so Adam didn’t fucking care.

It felt so unbelievably perfect to have Ronan’s warm lips, ever so slightly chapped, but still soft and just as he remembered it pressed around him, his tongue flickering sweetly at the tip, and that cozy, tight hand sliding on his sweat marked skin. It felt like he was going to die.

Ronan lowered his head on his cock, taking about an inch more this time, making Adam gasp. As Ronan’s lips worked its way down, his hand gradually slid off, moving back over Adam’s tight, tingling balls and down between his legs. And finally, when he was entirely encased in Ronan’s hot mouth Adam let out the obscenest sound, arching his back off the mattress and screaming Ronan’s name and he pressed a fingertip inside him.

The moment Adam felt his orgasm building up Ronan pumps two fingers inside him in a smooth motion. He hadn’t felt this heavenly in months and _fuck_ that was his prostate and Ronan’s mouth was still on his dick, sucking and licking and _oh God_ he was going to fucking _cum_ — “Ronan, if you don’t fuck me right this fucking second—”

“Still impatient.” he said softly, running the tip of his nose against the purple bruise he left on the pale neck before him. Adam hissed through his teeth.

“Please.” He whimpered, but Ronan didn't answer, opting instead to lick over the hickey and Adam found himself counting to ten in his head so he didn't come without even touching himself. 

Ronan indulged him, giving Adam’s cock small tugs with one hand and reaching further into him with his other, pushing and curling his fingers up... “God!” Adam jerked bodily as the fingers find his prostate again and again, pressing his damp forehead into Ronan’s neck, whimpering softly.

“Fuck.” Ronan says, almost soothingly, disbelieving, pressing kisses up and down the side of his face, running his free hand gently through Adam’s silky hair and down the length of his stomach, massaging the hard-little nub inside him relentlessly until Adam was sobbing and clenchinh tightly around him to make him stop, his hips jerking erratically.

“I’m really close,” he said softly, pressing open mouthed kisses up Ronan’s neck, along his jaw, pausing at his mouth.

Ronan looked down at him, at the way his fringe fell into his lust blown eyes, the way warm breaths huffed out of him, the slight wobble of his chin belying his calm tone. “I know,” he replied with a smirk. But still, he relented, giving Adam’s prostate a last squeeze that made him hiss through his teeth, and pulled his fingers out.

Ronan got up more firmly onto his knees and adjusted himself until he lined his cock to Adam’s entrance. Adam knew his expression turned into one of pure bliss, the silent scream his mouth betrays him to, the sparkling brown eyes rolling steadily back before he squeezed them shut. The moment Ronan was buried to the hilt into him, slow and slick, Adam couldn't help but groan loudly.

“Shh, Adam.” And Ronan nosed along his face, his neck, lips grazing his ear just where he knew Adam was sensitive, sparking a shiver so intense Adam’s mouth hung open, his throat dry. He didn’t move, letting Adam get used to him, to the feeling he’d been longing for so long to have back.

“Ronan.” Adam breathed heavily, his blood pounding at his temples, the tight channel of his ass around Ronan’s phenomenal cock making him feel faint with pleasure. He took a second, squirming above Adam, before leaping down the remaining millimeters and kissing him just as he thrusted in for the first time.

His balls were tightening painfully, his cock leaking steadily onto his stomach with every press to his prostate, and Ronan’s mouth to his neck. The muscles at Ronan’s back felt godlike beneath his nails and soft puffs of air he let out at Adam’s ear is enough to make him want more. Ronan hooked his arms under his knees and held his legs wide apart, fucking him in long, lazy thrusts, his movements controlled, and his focus unwavering as he changed angles until he finds the right one. And _fuck_ , when he did, Adam cried out, clenching and unclenching erratically around Ronan.

“Not yet,” Ronan told him gently, pressing a kiss on those irresistible little freckles Adam knew he missed, before dragging his mouth across his face and onto his mouth. He moaned deeply into Ronan’s mouth but obeyed, quickly closing a hand around the base of his own cock, squeezing hard, pulling at Ronan’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Ronan’s thrusts become clumsy and unfiltered as Adam placed wet kisses to his face, his jaw, biting down at particularly hard thrusts, muffling his moans in his skin, his slight body lurching. “Ronan,” he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time that night, his breath playing around Ronan’s ear.

At the so familiar, two-year long gesture, Ronan’s eyes bore into his own and Adam suddenly sees his freshly 18-year-old Ronan, beautiful and new, making Adam’s heart thump like it never had. Ronan must’ve felt the same way as he leans in and kissed Adam, deep, hard, lifting his slender legs higher and rising onto his feet to deliver sharp, merciless stabs against his prostate.

“ _Fuck_.” Adam broke the kiss to throw his head back, making a desperate, piteous sound that seemed to emerge right from the depths of his thin chest. Ronan huffed a sigh of contempt, pressing a line of kisses up his throat, pausing to lick tenderly over his earlobe.

That’s when Adam lost it. He groaned, gasped, and then thrashed uncontrollably, his toes unfurling and curling involuntarily. “I’ve missed you so much.” Ronan said softly, licking the shell of his ear. With a startled, pained cry, Adam arched and came, his cock erupting all over his own chest and stomach, all over _Ronan’s_  chest and stomach, his ass clamped tight, his whole body seizing helplessly. “That’s it,” Ronan murmured, pulling him close, gently kissing his tightly shut eyes. “You’re so fucking hot, Adam,” he whispered and Adam wailed at his words, hips jerking frenetically, shudders ripping through him every other second as he continued to come in long, sticky ropes, nails scrabbling over Ronan's back. “Fuck.”

Holding Adam’s quaking body close, Ronan finished with a few last thrusts into his pliant body. “ _Yes_ , Ronan—” Adam panted, cradling Ronan's head to himself, his breathing sounding almost painful as he bites Ronan’s earlobe between breaths. He loved it when Ronan would fuck him post-orgasm, just after his own, in the bliss and overstimulation of his prostate. It felt so fucking good, and Adam knew for a fact Ronan loved it as well.

Groaning helplessly, Ronan didn’t hold back as his orgasm ripping ferociously through him, his hips never stilling as he released load after load into Adam, beautifully and irresistibly gorgeous, before collapsing on top of him.

It always took them both a few seconds to recompose themselves; Ronan would always take longer, giving Adam a chance to prep him with kisses, clean them both up and curl up to him, sighing happily and fulfilled, pressing his lips to Ronan’s skin not quite kissing, but just because he could. Ronan would then wrap his arms around Adam and kiss his hairline, mutter a cheesy, gross but affectionate insult that completely translated into ‘I love you’.

This time, though, Ronan was out of him and the bed before he could even process it, only to come back with a wet towel. Adam felt a siren go off in his head as Ronan moist cloth touched his stomach, running his hands along the sharp scars left by Robert Parrish just like he did six months prior, and bending down to kiss them. Some things never change.

“Ronan.” His voice was quiet, just as he realized he had nothing to say. He wanted this. He wanted to have sex with Ronan then and he wanted to have sex with Ronan again, but his brain felt like liquid, and his muscles felt like iron pulling him down, and before he could say anything else, he was asleep.

Vaguely, he heard a soft, small voice pressed to his forehead say, “I love you.”

***

It was morning by the time Adam woke up.

Ronan’s bed felt unsurprisingly familiar around him, the heavy – now white, new sheets Ronan had bought made him never want to get up. He opened his eyes to find an empty bed, though clearly just vacated, “Ronan?” 

“In here.” He called from the living room/kitchen, and in seconds Ronan Lynch paced inside his own room, shirtless but still swearing light grey boxers. Adam didn’t feel like he needed to hide his shy yet significant smile, and Ronan apparently felt the same, shooting Adam the warmest, ear-to-ear smile. Ronan sat down on the edge of the mattress whilst Adam sat up, meeting him half way for a perfect, slow and languid good morning kiss.

“Hm.” Adam let out before he pulled away wide eyed. Ronan tasted like breakfast, “Are those—”

“Pancakes.” Ronan said, softly rubbing the tip of his nose to Adam’s, “You’d think I’d break tradition?”

Adam let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. On the days where Adam needed to head back up to New York after coming to visit Henrietta, Ronan would make him his special recipe of cinnamon pancakes with strawberries, and after so many times repeating that same little routine of preparing and eating them together, it became a tradition. 

And now he didn’t know what to say. Ronan had noticed, though, like he did about anything that came up with Adam. He could read him like an open book, “… Or fuck tradition! We don’t have to eat it.”

Adam knew Ronan was just trying to make things better, nervously looking at him, waiting for him to clear the air, to say something secure so he could mildly guess what Adam was thinking. He’d picked up on that small knack of Ronan’s, like he was constantly disarming a bomb when it came to Adam’s feelings. Right now, though, there was no bomb to begin with.

Adam just felt so _comfortable_ waking up to the smell of cinnamon pancakes and Ronan’s scent all over the room his mind didn’t automatically overthink the consequences. He hadn’t felt this good about his surroundings for so long he forgot just how much he missed the little details of his life. Either it being pancakes before a long drive back to campus or watching Grand Budapest Hotel with his best friend. He fucking _missed_ it.

Adam missed his life.

“We should talk, Ronan,” he started, but before Ronan’s face melted into desperate frustration he continued, “but only if it’s over pancakes.”

And Ronan’s eyes lit up so beautifully before he kissed Adam that everything else seemed like background noise. 

***

They didn’t exactly talk.

At first, he and Ronan ate their pancakes and chatted about everything _but_ their relationship, though Adam wasn’t exactly bothered by it. In fact, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders when he finally got to tell Ronan all the incredible things he’d done over the course of six months. Six months in which Adam ached to call his ex-boyfriend every day like he used to, just because he was the first person he wanted to tell when an exciting thing happened.

Ronan had done the same; he told Adam about his paintings and his deal with a gallery in Charleston and how he planned on opening a gallery of his own one day. Adam felt his cheeks burn from picturing Ronan, _his_ Ronan, running his own business, of sorts. He thought it was too adorable, but decided not to voice it for safety measures. 

But then finally both of them stopped chatting and laughing. For once, though, Adam didn’t feel trapped like he usually did when the breakup came up. Ronan laid all his feelings on the table; he was seeing a fucking psychiatrist, one that basically pulled him from endgame when they split up and when both Gansey and Blue had been travelling. He had no one. Not even himself.

Ronan had always loved sketching. Adam pretended he hated the ones Ronan had done of him over the years – especially the naked ones – but he loved seeing himself from Ronan’s eyes. Ronan was the only person who knew him entirely; knew his flaws, his good and bad traits, his habits and quirks and _loved_ him for it. He had never shamed Adam for being who he is, and certainly never asked him to change. At first, Adam didn’t quite understand why Ronan just _accepted_ the way he was, or why he never pushed Adam for more than he was willing to give. Either it being sex or affection, Ronan knew when to stop, and never even complained about it.

It took Adam some time to realize that _that_ was a healthy relationship. That was when he realized Ronan was never going to take something Adam hadn’t given him, and after that thought dawned on him, Adam changed when it came to his boyfriend. Yes, it still took a while for him to be completely comfortable with some things, but he got there with Ronan eventually. And when he did, he felt whole, not regretting taking his time to adjust.

Adam thought maybe it was the same thing as Ronan’s path to getting help. He’d always known Ronan had serious mental health problems, one’s Adam quite frankly didn’t know how to deal with. Of course, he had researched everything there was to know. Ronan’s panic attacks were much shorter than the usual, and his coping mechanisms were gradually less life threatening – like the goddamned drag racing and drinking – and far more pacific, like the painting and gardening. Ronan had always fought about one thing, though, and that was getting professional help.

So when Ronan turned to him then and said he’d been seeing a psychiatrist for the same amount of time they’d split up, Adam felt _relieved_. Being kept in the dark from Ronan’s mental health had been the worst part of it, even more than being without Ronan himself. He loved Ronan to a point where he cared about Ronan than their relationship.

Gansey had once told him Ronan was at a retreat for a month and a half, but didn’t ever tell him the reason. Adam had been so worried, so anxious and concerned he’d called fucking _Declan_ to ask about it. Declan had simply said Ronan needed time to himself, to pull himself up, and to not contact him or his brother for the time being. Adam didn’t mention to Blue nor Gansey how he had his own panic attack over it, and that Henry was the only inexperienced person there to help him.

Ronan also told him his reason for cutting him off from his life completely. His psychiatrist, Ms. Carvalho, had suggested not talking to him for the first month. Ronan had talked about his written breakup speech, his insecurity that he wasn’t enough for Adam now that he had plenty of smarter, more interesting people to be with in college, and how he’d never felt worthy of Adam’s love. Adam had simply fought off the urge to cry, closed his eyes few seconds before basically threw himself where Ronan was sitting on the couch. Ronan didn’t explain why he hadn’t contacted Adam for the last five months, but he thought maybe it was still because he wanted to get better, and Adam understood that.

They didn’t talk much after that. Ronan hugged his slim waist and touched his lips to Adam’s neck, breathing him in like he was trying to memorized his smell. After a while, Adam got up and made them some more coffee, but by the time it was ready Blue and Gansey pulled up in the Pig and bid them a warm hello, a smile Adam resembled as relief splattered on their faces.

“I’m actually surprised you two didn’t kill each other.” Said Blue whilst accepting Adam’s offer of coffee. 

“You owe me two dollars, Jane.” 

Ronan made a face, “You two fucking bet on us?”

Blue looked at him as if it weren’t obvious they’d done so, “Uh, yeah. If you two got back together Gansey gets two dollars and if you two just fought really badly and Adam left early, then our summer trip is Greece instead of Spain.”

Adam felt Ronan tense where their arms and thighs touched on the couch, “We didn’t actually say we got back together.” Said Adam, fairly collected.

That seemed to shut Blue and Gansey up, “Oh.” Gansey let out, furrowing his brows and obviously more disappointed than embarrassed that they’d pointed out something as awkward as that.

“Fucking Christ, Gansey.” Muttered Ronan, before he got up and stormed inside his room.

Blue turned to Adam with a sorry, regretful gaze, “Adam—”

“It’s okay, Blue.” Said Adam, sighing, “We hadn’t actually talked about that part yet.”

“Did he apologize?” asked Gansey from the fridge, “Did he tell you his reasons?”

“Yeah.” Adam nodded, and thought maybe he shouldn’t share what he and Ronan talked about, “We were catching up.”

Blue and Gansey exchanged looks, but said nothing more of the matter. Blue must’ve put him in line and given him a lecture on not infiltrating his and Ronan’s relationship, but Adam figured it must be hard seeing two of your best friends who clearly have feelings for each other not be together, or even be on speaking terms for half a year. Adam liked how much faith Gansey put into them; it made him feel hopeful, like he wasn’t crazy thinking he and Ronan were still a good pair.

**

Adam was silent when he finally decided get up from the couch to go after Ronan. 

His door was slightly ajar, so Adam knocked on it before he came in and closed it behind him. 

“Hey.” Adam said, not knowing how to star the conversation, “You okay?”

Ronan ripped his headphones off violently, sitting with his back to the headboard, “Peachy, Parrish.” He said, not looking Adam’s way, “Thanks for asking.”

Adam winced, “Don’t be like that.”

Ronan pierced his gaze on him, “What do you want me to be like, then?”

“Anything but this, Ronan.” He said, a small yet steady wave of anger passed through him, “Being hostile won’t get you anywhere.”

“I’m not going where I want either way.” He said, “We don’t have to talk about it, Parrish.”

“Of course we fucking do, you moron.” Adam grit out, “You seriously think we’d just have sex and that’s it?! That I’d just go back to New York without talking to you?”

“How am I supposed to fucking know?” Ronan was up from his bed now, pacing around nervously.

“Well, if you let me fucking _talk_ then maybe you’d know.” He bit out, harshly. Ronan had stopped at that, breathing a bit too heavily, but waiting for Adam to continue. 

In reality, Adam didn’t plan what he was going to say. Before coming to Henrietta, he had seriously thought he and Ronan would simply be civil enough around each other to pass Christmas night, and they wouldn’t talk, or have sex, for that matter. He hadn’t expected being bombed with his ex-boyfriend’s mental health improvements and a serious, deep-hearted apology for the worst night of his life. 

Most of all, he never expected Ronan to want him back.

“You hurt me, Ronan.” He said as he closed his eyes, as if shielding the beautiful imagine that stung, “And I know you were going through some shit, and that’s why you did it but it doesn’t change the fact that you made me feel like a piece of trash. You _ignored_ me for six months.” 

“Adam—”

“And all the while all I ever thought about was being back here with you. Sure, I was mad at you, and mad at myself for not fighting back that night, but I was just _exhausted_ of being away from you. I was worried and I was upset, and I just wanted it to be fucking over with.”

Ronan was standing close to him now; Adam hadn’t realized he was shaking until Ronan’s warm hands met his upper arm, stroking up and down trying to soothe him, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Said Adam, because Ronan saying sorry was too much for him, “Just— what I’m trying to say is—I need time. To think. To set my priorities straight. I—I haven’t thought this over, Ronan. I didn’t even know it was a possibility.”

And what could Ronan do? Adam was holding his breath, looking at Ronan and waiting for him to say something, _anything_ , but Ronan simply nodded and took a step back, letting his hands fall from Adam’s arm. He knew he wasn’t giving Ronan insurance of his feelings, even if he did admit he still had them. He knew, deep down, he was hurting Ronan.

But Adam put himself first, and walked out of Ronan’s room.

**

 

New York welcomed Adam like home.

It wasn’t the Barns, or the sound of his friends’ laughter, or Ronan’s arms around him, but it still felt like home. And as much as the _city_ made him feel like that, his dorm never did; Adam avoided being there as much as he could. He even took to studying in Columbia’s beautiful library, sometimes just because he could, and retired to his room for sleeping and napping purposes only.

Adam had once read in a psychology book that those who’d suffered child abuse tended to have respiratory problems due to the PTSD that came with it, and that small, cold, barely lit places could trigger memories or even a panic attack. Adam still felt as if the term ‘child abuse’ was a bit too far. It had surely felt like that, and Adam really _did_ hate small places, but before befriending a senior who was majoring in psychology Adam never puzzled just how much his childhood affected him. He hadn’t talked to anyone about it. Maybe once or twice with Ronan, when he bumped into Adam’s father in town and didn’t feel like hiding how he sneered and spat on the ground he’d walked on. 

Besides that, Adam never talked about his father. 

Most days he’d carry on okay if he ever thought of him or saw something that made him remember those dreadful, awful nights in the trailer. He still despised the smell of vodka, and the sweet scent of tequila made his throat close up, but it wasn’t like old times. God, Adam remembered how frightening it was to remember his father. The mere thought of him worsened Adam’s days to a point where he wasn’t able to do anything else except study his mind off. 

Ronan was there, though. For everything and anything.

Old Ronan, Adam thought, would’ve probably been in a car racing his alcohol poisoned brain until he crashed and injured himself to a pulp because Adam hadn’t given him an answer. He hated the fact that even though Ronan had – to an extent – given him time to process his apology, Adam felt like there wasn’t time enough to calculate what could go wrong and what wouldn’t. It had been a week since he left Henrietta, and all Adam could fantasize about was being pressed up against Ronan, to kiss his mouth and down his stomach, to laugh so effortlessly happy into Ronan’s neck.

Fuck, he thought.

Adam’s jobs were two entirely different things. One was related to his major and paid slightly more than the second: being a barista for four hours every day. It wasn’t anything especial, but it made him pay rent and eat, giving him the chance save up some extra money to enjoy little things he never could back in Henrietta, like having a Spotify account or even pay his own phone bill. Adam still remembered how stupidly giddy he felt about it the first week, how he could easily talk to Ronan through it.

The coffee shop wasn’t as packed on Thursdays. Usually because most people had classes then, so Adam wasn’t stressing about it like he often did. There was a small yet prominent line of four people, and by the time the last person walked up to the counter, Adam only needed one look ahead to drop his pen from his hand.

“Ronan.” He mumbled, shocked. He’d always preferred New-York-City-Ronan-Lynch: a more put together, bundled up and fashionable side of his ex-boyfriend he only got to see while at school, whilst in Virginia or at the Barns he didn’t feel like dressing up was necessary. Adam loved that version of him as well, but a stylish Ronan Lynch was sexy and confident, all things Adam would die to see.

Ronan smirked at him, “Parrish.” He greeted, slightly nodding with a confidence Adam didn’t remember him having a week ago, “We need to talk.”

Adam was stunned into a brief, yet defined state of confusion and _God he looks good in that black sweater_ , that he forgot he was at work, behind a fucking counter, wearing a stupid hat and a lavender apron Ronan once teased him endlessly about. And fuck, if Ronan had learned _anything_ from dating him for two years was that work was off-limits whatever it fucking was. Ronan had always obeyed that, never actually showing up unannounced – sometimes to bring him lunch, but Adam always knew _when_ – and now there he was, looking gorgeous with his brown skin contrasting in the small spot of sunlight coming in from the big windows and giving Adam a satisfactory smile that made him want to murder him.

In a millisecond Adam was turning to Yin, his coworker, trying to calmly tell him to take over the cashier for a minute so he could step outside. Ronan’s barely exposed wrists were cold from the weather as he touched them, pulling him to a small corner where the napkins and sugar bags were placed.

“What the absolute fuck are you doing here, Lynch?”

Ronan shrugged, popping a sugar bag from the tabletop, “What time you get off?”

Adam pinched him an unbelieving look, “You know when.”

“Just checking if it’s still the same.” He pressed his lips together, taking a step forward and way too close to Adam, “I’ll be at Muroux’s at seven.”

Adam felt his stomach sink, “Ronan, why would you—”

“It’s Matthew’s birthday tomorrow.” Ronan’s eyes were softer now. Adam figured it was because neither of them could joke about going to Muroux’s like it wasn’t their favorite restaurant in New York, or Matthew for that matter, “Or did you—”

“No, I didn’t forget.” Adam said quickly. He’d talked to Matthew yesterday, asking if their two-year tradition of visiting MoMA was still on; he didn’t know if it seemed appropriate considering him and Ronan were broken up, but Adam vividly remembered how much he loved those museum trips, how fascinated he seemed. Him and Matthew had grown rather close because of Ronan, and Adam missed him as well.

Really, Adam cursed himself for not calculating that Ronan would be in New York that week. It had barely crossed his mind when talking to Matthew, and he sure as fuck didn’t expect Ronan to come after him – not after what Adam had said back in Henrietta, “Good.” Ronan nodded, “He wants you to join us for dinner tonight. Tomorrow’s Declan’s turn and both me and Matthew would rather spare you an awful fucking night.”

“Ronan.” Adam started, his eyes closing for a brief second as he worked his schedule and feelings in order, “I—I can’t—”

“Look, I know I said I’d give you time. And you _do_ have time. You don’t have to fucking say anything, really. It’s just Matthew—”

Adam shook his head, raising his hands so Ronan would stop rambling, “No, no. Ronan, I have a seminar at 7:30.” His face relaxed, posture flagged and Adam hadn’t even seen him tense over, “It’s um, required. For my finals.”

“Oh.” Was all Ronan said. Adam hadn’t forgotten how much Ronan adored his brother, how he’d do anything for him. He missed witnessing their relationship, how genuine it was, based off absolutely nothing but love. It was like constantly watching a movie; so near that he could touch, but so far it was impossible to reach. Adam thought maybe in a past life he’d loved a sibling, or a parent, or any family member as much as Ronan loved Matthew, and that thought alone made him not feel sorry for himself.

“Fuck.” He said, eyes vulnerable. This wasn’t about him and Ronan anymore, “I—I’ll figure something out.”

Ronan’s eyes snapped to his, “What? No, Parrish.” He was using his convincing voice; one Adam was entirely too used to and utterly pliant to. It resembled a softness in which came with Ronan realizing he wanted to put other people first, a moment in which he never hesitated to leave his sharp words and harsh language behind, “Matthew will understand. It’s okay.”

Adam wasn’t going to let this go. He glanced around thoughtfully, almost as if expecting a miracle, then turned to Ronan, “I’ll be there.” And before Ronan could protest, he paced back to the counter to take an old lady’s order.

**

A birthday with an ex-boyfriend and his teenage little brother should’ve been a lot more awkward than Adam lived it to be.

Adam got there around ten; Matthew and Ronan had pushed their schedule to eat at nine so Adam could at least catch them for desert, singing a quiet, short happy birthday before they decided to walk back to the hotel they were staying. Adam made sure to accompany them.

Columbia wasn’t far from Muroux’s. It was a quiet, small restaurant Ronan and him had spent almost every anniversary in, followed by all the times Ronan had come up to visit. They were friends with the waiters and waitresses, all of them basically being college students, keeping in touch every now and then. For a while Adam had avoided passing through it, not wanting it to spark up unwanted happy memories Adam was too afraid to face. It was his first time back there in six months.

When they approached the shabby-looking hotel Ronan always booked for Matthew it was almost eleven thirty. Ronan gave his brother a parental, proud look before hugging him goodnight and telling him he’d walk Adam back, “I don’t need a bodyguard.” Retorted Adam twisting his brows. Ronan simply shoved his shoulders as he passed him, and a quick goodbye to Matthew later, Adam and Ronan walked silently together until they reached campus.

At some point, right as they entered a particularly beautiful part of Columbia, Ronan thanked him for making time tonight, “Matthew really wanted to see you.” He said, “He almost killed me when I told him we broke up.”

Adam smiled, turning to look at him, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Ronan returned a small grin, “He was so fucking pissed. Kept telling me I was the stupidest person ever for letting you go.”

Adam chuckled despite the flutter in his stomach, “Henry was the same. He even called Gansey to threaten you via diplomacy when I blacked out drunk once.” 

Ronan slowed his pace, “You got _drunk_?” and Adam immediately knew he shouldn’t have said anything. It was a spectacularly bad decision, he knew, but it was his and Ronan’s anniversary, the same day Henry threw a huge party with a couple of his friends. Adam felt like exploding, he felt trapped and so fucking _angry_ at Ronan that he only remembered always having a glass of wine in hand, throwing up in Henry’s rich, golden bathroom and _crying_. So fucking much.

He winced, “Not my best moment.”

Ronan laughs at him, bumping their elbows, “Can’t believe I wasn’t there to see Adam Perfect Parrish drink irresponsibly.”

“And you never will.” He smiled. At this point they had reached Adam’s dorm building. Ronan stops, and turns to him at a distance Adam doesn’t think he minds.

“I’m known for changing people’s minds, if you don’t remember.” Ronan’s eyes sparkled in a way Adam thought was imaginary, looking at him with effortless elation. Ronan was, in his most humble opinion, sculpted by whatever God there was himself. Back then, it had felt almost unreal to him getting to wake up most days and study Ronan, peaceful and tranquil, knowing he was _Adam's_.

God. Adam’s brain couldn’t think of anything else except how it felt to have Ronan’s soft lips against his, to have his body flushed to Ronan’s firm one, to breathe in the scent he’s related to home for two years. It feels almost painful, being this close, this dependent of someone.

So the moment Ronan parts his mouth to say goodbye Adam doesn’t think twice. He shifts up to meet Ronan’s lips in a slow, yet confident move. The small, surprised gasp he earns out of him is enough; it’s all Adam silently wanted. It’s a silent victory, a pacific protest of such as Adam’s body involuntarily fits against Ronan’s in the way it did last week, last semester, last year. It’s a puzzle finally done again, a gain of power he insures to the warm press of Ronan’s lips against his, hands roaming up his hair.

But it’s only when Ronan’s hands grip his hips just the perfect amount of firm that Adam knows. Right then, quietly whimpering as an unexpected wave of happiness flows through him, Adam’s choice was made. He knows he wouldn’t be able to live his life knowing Ronan Lynch was out there, mentally stable, exuberant and _happy_ and not see it front row, not bask in it and try to contribute. He wouldn’t be able to live his days thinking he’d never kiss him again. Kiss him like this, open and slow, tantalizing and inviting. The thought of the love of his life out there, away from Adam _hurt_ like he was being tortured. He never wanted that. He wanted _this_. He wanted Ronan.

“Adam.” Ronan breathed against his lips, hints of confusion and contempt in voice. Adam almost doesn’t hear him, hypnotized by the feel of their lips on one another. When he presses in again, Ronan only lets him deeply peck his closed, plump mouth before he pulls back and grabs Adam’s shoulder, “Wait.”

“What—”

Ronan struggled for breath, “We— _I_ can’t do this. Not until you give me an answer.” He reaches to his face, gently tracing a small scar on Adam’s left cheek, “Take all the time you need, Adam, but until then—”

Adam shook his head with a ferocity and fear someone would say it was unlike him to do so, but he didn’t care, “I’ve decided.” He said, taking Ronan’s hand from his face and pressing a kiss to his palm, “I don’t need more time.”

Ronan’s face looked like it might break for the second it was momentarily stunned. Adam chuckles, close enough to Ronan’s lips so their lips were touching, and kissed him like the world depended on it. The grip he got back was intense, a sense in which Adam missed more than anything in the world, lifting him off the ground, hugging and kissing him with his bare emotions on display. For what seemed like an eternity, that was all they did; wallowing in each other’s bodies, pressed together in semi-public, muttering small words of ‘I missed you’ or ‘promise me you’ll never do that again’.

By the time they walked inside Adam’s room together, two smiles were matched and glued to their faces; a look so elegantly pleasant on Ronan that Adam thought maybe, just maybe, that life didn’t get better than this.

End.


End file.
